


take us, together, like the stroke of a bow

by lavenderlotion



Series: heaven having been too far from home [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Bruises, Come Eating, Come Marking, Coming Untouched, Consensual Underage Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Father/Son Incest, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Hugging, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Insecurity, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Marking, Nipple Play, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Season/Series 01, Strip Tease, Stripping, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:34:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23982400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlotion/pseuds/lavenderlotion
Summary: Dad’s eyes slide up and down his figure heavily, no doubt looking for signs of harm. It breaks his heart even more that that’s something Dad knows to do—heneverwants to hurt his dad, but he’s been doing it inadvertently his entire life. It feels like he’s about to do it again, but he doesn’t know how to do anything else when he justcan’tlie, not about this.
Relationships: Burt Hummel/Kurt Hummel
Series: heaven having been too far from home [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1729165
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39





	take us, together, like the stroke of a bow

**Author's Note:**

> S1E9
> 
> A BIG thanks to homosociality for all of your support and cheerleading and beta-ing. This work wouldn't exist without you <3

Kurt’s heart is racing as he sits in his driveway and looks at the back bumper of his dad’s truck, his palms sweating as he grips his steering wheel tighter and tighter. He tries to take a deep breath and push down some of his anxiety that’s making him feel breathless, but just the thought of going inside is making his breath come in quick, uneasy bursts. Looking at his reflection in his rearview mirror doesn’t make it any better; Kurt’s cheeks are a blotchy red and his eyes are bloodshot and swollen. 

If nothing else, at least he looks as awful as he feels. 

Oh Gaga, Kurt can’t go inside. How is he supposed to face his dad, who talked him up and inspired him and  _ believed  _ in him? How is he supposed to tell him that he didn’t get the part after his dad went through so much work just to get Kurt a chance? How... how is he supposed to explain that he was just trying to protect him?

Sniffling, Kurt wipes a tear from his cheek and forces himself to relax his hands where they’re still gripping his steering wheel tightly. Everything is just so... so unfair. Which... is really nothing new. Not when he’s Kurt freaking Hummel and things have been unfair since the very moment he was born. When he’s been dealing with just how  _ unfair  _ life is for the last fifteen years. But that doesn’t mean he wants his dad dealing with it, though, and Kurt has to push down another bout of tears at the very thought of his father having to deal with even a  _ fraction _ of the absolute garbage Kurt deals with on a daily basis. 

It’s fine.  _ Dior, _ but everything is fine, he continues to tell himself firmly, hoping he’ll eventually start believing it. Slowly, Kurt continues to take deep, measured breaths until he starts to feel like he has  _ some _ control of himself, wiping a final tear from his cheek and taking another quick look in the mirror. Oh goodness, but he looks an absolute  _ mess _ right now. There’s no way his dad isn’t going to be able to tell that he was crying the  _ second _ that he sees Kurt’s face but... Kurt’s foolishly hopeful that he won’t even notice. 

It’s totally possible, right?

“I can do this. I’m a Hummel, and Hummels can do anything,” Kurt whispers into the silent cab of his Nav as he steels himself for the possible confrontation that he hopes against hope never even happens. He’s  _ fine.  _ It’s fine, it’s all going to be fine, there’s  _ nothing  _ that Kurt even needs to worry about. 

Which he does  _ not _ believe as he slowly walks up the drive, taking a moment to rest his forehead against their front door while studiously ignoring just how horrific this is for his skin. His hand shakes minutely as he goes to open the door, and he has to give himself a second before he can push it open with bated breath, stepping inside silently and quietly toeing off his shoes at the front door in a desperate bid to make as little noise as possible. 

Predictably, Dad is sprawled out on the couch and watching  _ Deadliest Catch. _ Usually, if this was any other day, Kurt would complain about his choice of television before moving to flop on the couch next to Dad—if his outfit allowed, that is. As it is, today is  _ not _ any day, and he does his very best to sneak through the living room, wanting nothing more than to hide out in his bedroom for the next several hours and then never have to even think about singing  _ Defying Gravity _ ever again.

But of course, that doesn’t happen. Every single day Kurt gets home after his dad and his outfit  _ doesn’t _ permit him to flop on the couch next to him, Dad makes Kurt stop in the living room to tell him about his day before letting him go get changed. Seeing as he doesn’t go and drop down onto the couch, it isn’t a surprise that today would be no different—despite hoping against hope that it would be.

“Kiddo, is that you?” Dad calls out, and Kurt watches as he strains his neck around, his eyes searching the room before landing on Kurt. He watches, his stomach twisting into knots, as Dad’s entire face falls. “Kurt, what’s wrong?”

Kurt pushes a smile onto his face and says, “Nothing’s wrong, Dad,” in a tone that sounds flat even to himself, but must sound even worse than he thinks because Dad shuts off the television without even glancing back at it before he stands up. 

“Kurt,” Dad scolds in a tone of voice that has Kurt’s lower lip wobbling.

Kurt’s hands fall to his sides, his bag landing on the floor with a thud and a rattle from his keys. His heart kicks back up until it’s racing behind his ribs and his palms start to sweat under the intense look in his dad’s eyes. The second Kurt even  _ considers  _ lying he brushes the thought away as he watches Dad watch him with the couch stuck between them. There’s a frown on his face that’s breaking Kurt’s heart and he... he can’t lie to him, not when his dad is  _ everything _ to him.

Silence stretches between them as Kurt nervously picks at his cuticles. Dad’s eyes slide up and down his figure heavily, no doubt looking for signs of harm. It breaks his heart even more knowing that’s something Dad knows to do—he  _ never _ wants to hurt his dad, but he’s been doing it inadvertently his entire life. It feels like he’s about to do it again, but he doesn’t know how to do anything else when he just  _ can’t _ lie, not about this. 

“Rachel Berry got the solo because I threw the note,” Kurt whispers, and the words scratch up out of his throat. Another tear spills over before he can blink them away or push them down, and his next breath shakes out of him as he watches confusion pull at Dad’s face. 

“That high f? I thought you told me you were able to hit it just last night? Hell, isn’t that what you were screeching all night long?” Dad asks with a frown on his face that breaks Kurt’s heart even wider apart, until his entire chest feels cracked open. 

Kurt nods (even if  _ screeching all night long _ is a gross exaggeration), wiping at his cheek and shaking his head, desperately trying to get control over his emotions when it feels like he’s falling apart. The confusion on Dad’s face makes his chest ache, but Kurt doesn’t know what to say.  _ Is there _ anything to say? He can’t lie, he  _ won’t _ lie, but he also can’t imagine telling him the truth either. Not... not with the way that Dad stood up for him. With the way he  _ believed  _ in him, just for Kurt to let him down. 

“Why would you do that?” Dad asks him, shuffling closer. 

Kurt tries to distract himself by focusing on what Dad’s wearing, which, typically, is a ratty t-shirt and boxers under his housecoat. He huffs out a breath and shakes his head as he tracks his eyes over his outfit, and it causes a smile to tug at Dad’s lips, pulling at the skin around his mouth and deepening his crow’s feet. He looks so handsome, and Kurt huffs again at his own ridiculousness. At least he’s not crying about disappointing his dad if he’s too busy thinking about how attractive he is, right? 

Gaga, he’s a mess. 

Taking a deep breath, Kurt wipes away the tear that had fallen and says, “I know you went out of your way to get me that chance. And I... Dad, I love you so much for that, but... I love you so much,” taking a deep breath, Kurt shrugs his shoulders and admits, “if you think things are bad now... imagine if I sing a song meant for a woman in front of hundreds of people? It’s certainly not going to get any better.”

Dad takes another step forward until he’s close enough that Kurt can smell the aftershave he bought for him a few years ago. He must have showered already, since he also gets the faintest whiff of his spicy body wash. He watches Dad’s face but instead of being hurt, or upset, or any number of things Kurt had been expecting and bracing himself for, he starts to smile. “Kurt, you’re my son, you got that? Nothing, and I mean  _ nothing, _ is ever gonna change that, and I’m gonna love you with every fibre of my goddamn being for the rest of your fabulous life, alright?”

Which is just too much. Kurt sniffs, feels his heart race in his chest, and then sobs, “Daddy!” as he flings himself into his dad’s open arms. 

His dad hugs him back tightly, crushing him against his chest and flooding Kurt’s senses with him; Kurt can’t feel anything but the warmth of his dad’s hold and the familiar way he smells and just how  _ big _ he is. His chest is aching with how full of love it feels and he can’t stop the flood of tears, finally allowing himself to mourn exactly what he lost after pushing it down for the whole day. 

Kurt just wants to sing a song that he loves, a song that he sings  _ so well.  _ He... well, he just wants to sing. That’s all he’s ever wanted to do, really. And his dad went and made that possible. Had stood in his corner and defended him, had  _ loved him, _ enough to give Kurt a chance the world wouldn’t have otherwise granted him because of the way it sees people like him. 

He just wants to sing. 

He loses himself in his dad’s hold, wrapped up in his big, warm arms. This is everything that Kurt’s always wanted but never let himself think about too closely, because of all the things it means about him. Maybe he really is as disgusting as all the kids at school say he is, since he’s currently battling with the growing arousal warming his stomach just because his Dad’s hugging him so tightly. 

It feels so good, so  _ safe, _ that Kurt tries to focus on that and not how his dad smells or how warm he is, or any of the other things that are currently turning him on. And it isn’t that he and his dad aren’t affectionate with each other, because they  _ are,  _ it's just... this is so different from the affection they usually share—which generally consists of Dad slapping his shoulder or ruffling his hair or Kurt kissing his cheek. The way Dad’s all but wrapped himself around Kurt until he’s not even sure where he begins and where Dad ends is so much more than anything he usually has to handle.

He’s had so many dirty thoughts and countless wet dreams that started  _ just like this  _ that he can feel himself start to grow hard in his pants and, horrifically, he can’t do anything about it. He squeezes his eyes closed tightly enough that his eyelids light up with sparks of brightness, and he finally stops crying without ever having realized that he’d started. His next breath shudders out of him as arousal continues to warm his belly. His dick gets even harder, and all he does is stand there and let Dad hold him. 

He has no idea what else he could even possibly do. Kurt knows how tight his pants are; if he moves away Dad is going to see just how hard he is, but if he stays Dad is going to  _ feel _ it. Which... well he can’t say that  _ doesn’t _ thrill him, a little, but he’s pretty sure he only feels that way because most of the blood that  _ should _ be pumping oxygen to his brain isn’t anywhere near his brain at all. 

As Kurt’s mentally freaking out, Dad’s hand is running a big hand up and down his back in slow strokes. The next time it slides down his shirt, it doesn’t stop where it’d stopped the last few times—and Kurt  _ definitely  _ knows where it stopped, with the way Dad’s hands on him are making him feel like he’s burning up—and it brushes over the swell of his ass. Kurt sucks in a sharp breath and his entire body goes tense, his arms locking up tight around Dad’s back. 

But Dad doesn’t say anything. Rather, he shushes Kurt gently and then  _ does it again, _ keeping his big,  _ big _ hand pressed against the curve of Kurt’s ass for several seconds, during which Kurt doesn’t take a single breath and he’s not even totally sure that his heart beats. And then Dad’s hand slides back up, and Kurt can't stop the way his entire body is racked with a fine shiver and his hips twitch forward to grind his erection into the meat of Dad’s thigh. 

_ Oh my Gaga, _ Kurt thinks, absolutely positive that he whimpers, only feeling more sure of it when Dad chuckles out a breath, an exhalation of air that Kurt feels warmly against the curve of his neck. Neither of them says anything, but Kurt’s sure Dad can feel that he’s hard. He’s... he’s not sure what the man is thinking, not until his hand ghosts over his ass again but this time  _ encourages  _ him to press forward, pressing against his bum with the lightest pressure that still has Kurt moaning. 

“Kurt,” Dad whispers in his ear with his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin. 

Kurt whimpers and says, “Daddy,” in a tone of voice he’s never heard from himself but sounds desperate. 

His dad is silent, and Kurt thinks he’s said something wrong until Dad  _ moans, _ a deep, shocking noise that goes straight to Kurt’s dick and makes him even harder. “God, baby,” Dad rumbles at him, holding him tighter until there isn’t even a slither of space between their bodies at all. Kurt’s hips twitch forward again, and he rubs his face into the soft cotton of his dad’s t-shirt as something needy builds up inside him. 

But then Dad’s pulling back, cresting the wave of his growing pleasure, though his arms stay wrapped around Kurt’s waist to keep their hips pressed together. Kurt’s eyes fall to where they’re pressing against one another, unable to look away from how his stomach is pressed against the white fabric of Dad’s shirt, caught up in the fact that they’re still so close, that Dad is  _ keeping _ them so close. 

“Kurt, sweetheart, can you look at me?” Dad asks him kindly. His voice is a whisper in the still room. 

Kurt nods, but he doesn’t take his eyes from where he has them focused on Dad’s chest right away. He has no idea what he’s expecting when he does look up, but Dad’s gentle, loving smile isn’t it. Maybe he really was expecting disgust, even though Dad is the one holding them together right now. Still, it makes it easy to meet his eyes, which are shining down at him. 

“I love you, Kurt,” Dad tells him seriously, his pale eyes sparkling. Kurt can’t look away, not with the way he can taste Dad’s breath against his lips. “I will  _ never _ do anything to hurt you, do you understand?”

“You’re not going to hurt me,” Kurt whispers, barely able to squeeze the words around the lump in his throat, not even hearing them over his racing heart. “Daddy,  _ please.”  _

Something in Dad’s face breaks open, and then Kurt’s pressing up to kiss him. 

Dad groans loudly and the sound rocks through Kurt’s body as he sways forward. His big hands move to cup Kurt’s face and hold him steady, giving him something to focus on as Dad takes control and slides their lips together in a way that makes Kurt’s erection twitch in his skinny jeans. He’s never been able to properly imagine this moment, though that’s mostly because he’s never kissed anyone before. Kurt doesn’t think imaginations would have done it justice. 

Kurt loses himself in sensation as Dad kisses him firmly. His hands are cupping Kurt’s face, fingers spanning his cheeks and brushing the back of his neck. His thumbs are sweeping over the cut of his cheekbones, calluses catching on Kurt’s smooth skin and drawing a shiver up his spine. Which is all only a faint background humming to the way Dad’s lips are pressed against his own, warm and tacky and lighting him up with heated arousal as Dad kisses him and kisses him. 

Kurt doesn’t know when the kisses slow, but after what has to be a few minutes, they’re not doing anything but standing in the living room and breathing in each other’s air. Kurt doesn’t mind it at all—he likes the way that Dad’s wrapped around him, making him feel so, so small but also incredibly safe. Any of his earlier grief has been completely forgotten under the utter joy of being in his dad’s arms after having his first kiss.

“How was that?” he ends up asking, keeping his eyes closed out of embarrassment. He’s sure that Dad knows that was his first kiss—it’s not like there’re many other gay boys in Lima—but voicing that feels different, more vulnerable, maybe, and Kurt feels himself blush even darker than he’s already been blushing. 

“That was perfect, baby,” Dad tells him kindly, brushing a kiss of his cheek before moving back so they can look at each other. “I... Kurt, are you sure this is something you want?”

“So sure,” he breathes, losing himself Dad’s eyes, tracing the flecks of green around his iris that usually just blend in with the different stripes of light blue surrounding them. 

And then, Kurt presses up onto his toes to kiss him again. It makes him breathless and giddy and happier than he’s  _ ever _ been that this is something he’s able to do, that he doesn’t have to hold himself back like he’s been doing for  _ years.  _ He tells his dad as much, their lips sticking together as he speaks, tacky with saliva and making Kurt twitch in his pants as he says, “I’ve wanted you for so long, Daddy.”

Dad groans, and then kisses him again, kisses him  _ deeper.  _ His tongue licks over Kurt’s top lip and lights him up with fire. He gasps, mouth falling open which Dad seems to take as an invitation. Before Kurt can even string together a thought about  _ how good _ it feels, Dad’s tongue is slipping up behind his teeth and then drawing Kurt’s lip between his own to suck it into his mouth. He kisses back best as he can, pursing his bottom lip and dragging it over Dad’s. 

Groaning, their lips slide together again, and Kurt loses himself in the slick, wet glide of their tongues and teeth and lips. Arousal is thrumming through his body and keeping him warm as Dad kisses and kisses him, his arms wrapped tightly around the small of his waist as he presses into Kurt with his bulk. Kurt leans back into the circle of his arms, his own draped around his Dad’s neck, his fingers tangled together behind his head as he kisses back as best as he can. 

Slowly, their hot, open-mouthed kisses start to trail into lighter, sucking presses of their lips and the tangling of their tongues that eventually mellow out into sweet smooches that have Kurt laughing. 

“God, you’re gorgeous, Kurt,” Dad tells him with so much sincerity in his voice it rocks Kurt to his core. 

“A-are you...” Kurt trails off, unable, or maybe just unwilling, to ask what he wants to know. 

Dad shakes his head and Kurt’s heart stops beating, falling out of his chest, before Dad tells him, “But I’ve...  _ dammit _ Kurt, I’ve been attracted to you a helluva lot longer than I should’ve been. I’ve done my goddamn best to make sure you never knew, but I—”

“I had no idea,” Kurt reassures him quickly, slipping his hands between them and smoothing over Dad’s chest before cupping his jaw and angling his face up so Dad has to meet his eyes again. “I promise, Daddy. I had no idea.”

“So you... baby, you’re attracted to me, too?” Dad asks in a tone of voice that’s filled with more uncertainty than Kurt has ever heard from him before. 

Kurt blushes even as he takes a deep breath and draws himself up, finding confidence in the way Dad’s holding his hips to keep him close. He rolls his hips forward and digs his erection into the plush skin of Dad’s thigh, dropping his head against Dad’s collar when the head of his dick rubs against the silky material of his underwear and makes him moan. Dad’s hand slides back around to grab his ass, and he  _ squeezes. _

“Oh my gosh,” Kurt breathes, nosing up until he can mouth at Dad’s neck, sucking the skin between his lips, layering it with kisses, drawing his teeth over it. 

He has no idea what he’s doing but Dad’s encouraging him to roll his hips, his hand flexing on Kurt’s ass. He feels  _ so good, _ better than he’s ever managed to make himself feel on his own, and Dad isn’t doing anything but holding him and touching his bum as Kurt ruts up against him. The silky-smooth material of his underwear is getting damper and damper as he leaks precome into his briefs and it’s, it’s so much, it’s the best thing Kurt’s ever felt, it’s—

“S-stop,” he gasps, locking up tightly and straining every muscle to try to stop himself from coming. 

And Dad does. His entire body freezes up and he doesn’t so much as breathe. Kurt hugs him tight and kisses his throat and sucks in as much air as his burning lungs can get all while he whines and draws his hips back, desperately trying to keep from coming in his pants. Slowly Dad starts to relax against him, though Kurt keeps holding him tightly as he comes down from his pleasure high, focusing on breathing evenly and thinking about totally unsexy things like wearing clothes from  _ Target.  _

Kurt shudders at imagining that synthetic blend against his skin, but he finally starts to gently fall from his crest of pleasure until he’s not in danger of ruining in pants and is only a little hard. 

“Are... baby, are you okay?” Dad asks him seriously, pressing the words into his hair. 

Kurt nods before mumbling, “Don’t wanna come yet,” into Dad’s skin. 

“Y-you were gonna come?” Dad asks, and his voice drops into something deeper and huskier that makes him shiver again. Kurt pulls away enough to see his face and finds that his eyes are dark and wide, staring down at Kurt with something that looks like awe on his face. 

Kurt blushes, and says, “Y-yeah. That felt really good.”

“I’m so glad that you felt good, Kurt,” Dad tells him seriously, rubbing his back in long, soothing strokes before he asks, “Why didn’t you come, darling? I would have been more than okay if you had.”

“I didn’t want to come in my pants,” Kurt tells him incredulously, because  _ duh. _ That type of staining would definitely require a trip to the dry cleaners that Kurt  _ does not _ want to make. Dad goes to open his mouth and then closes it, though his cheeks shade pink. Kurt looks at him with a smile, feeling very confident that he knows what Dad was going to ask him. “Can we take our clothes off?”

Dad nods quickly, letting out a breath before bending down to kiss Kurt properly. Despite how good it feels and how badly Kurt wants to lose himself in the euphoria of getting to kiss Dad, something he  _ never _ even let himself imagine happening, his erection is still pressing against the zipper of his jeans and it’s starting to hurt and... Kurt’s not totally sure this is even  _ real, _ not completely, so he pulls back but keeps his hands wrapped around Dad’s neck to pull him along. 

“The couch,” he whispers into a kiss, giggling when Dad bumps their foreheads together nodding so hard, then moaning when he grabs Kurt’s ass. 

They walk backwards together until Dad hits the back of the couch and grunts lowly. Kurt uses the opportunity to lick back into his mouth, trying to imitate what Dad had done earlier as he runs his hands down Dad’s body, pressing into the softness of his belly and groaning as he slides his hands up and under his shirt. Dad’s skin is so  _ warm. _ Short hairs tickle at his palm as he presses into Dad’s skin, digging his fingers into his hips and holding tight as he kisses him with everything he can. 

Kurt slides his hands higher, pressing up against the weight of his pecs and cupping them in his hands as their lips slide together slowly. He tries nipping Dad’s bottom lip and grins into it when his hips twitch forward, digging his own erection into Kurt’s hip and lighting him up with arousal that burns through his limbs. His attention zeroes into that one point of contact, and Kurt can’t feel anything but the harsh press of it even through his clothes. 

“Get this off,” he whines, twisting his fingers into the inside of Dad’s shirt and tugging on it, pulling back to watch the way the fabric pulls taught over his nipples, which strain against the white material. 

He lets the fabric slip from his fingers as he turns his hands around, leaning in and licking a strip up Dad’s neck out of pure instinct before drawing his teeth down the same path as he slowly thumbs over the pebbled skin of Dad’s nipples. Dad groans again, a deep noise that echoes through Kurt’s body, and he feels a bead of precome push out of his dick. 

“Perfect,” Kurt whispers, and then runs his hands down Dad’s chest and stomach, digging in his fingers across his skin breathlessly before he starts rucking his t-shirt up. 

Dad’s hands cover his and halt their progress, pulling a frustrated whine out of Kurt’s throat as  _ all he wants  _ is to get him naked. When Kurt finally manages to draw his eyes from what he can see of Dad’s furry belly between the band of his boxers but still half-hidden by his stupid shirt, there’s a frown on his face and a look in his eyes that Kurt doesn’t like. 

“Dad?” he asks worriedly, wondering if he’s done something wrong or maybe Dad changed his mind or... maybe he’s realized how wrong this all is. Oh gosh, that must be it. 

Kurt tries to pull his hands away as his heart starts to race, breath getting caught up in his throat before Dad says, “Baby, a-are you sure you want me to take my clothes off?”

“What?” Kurt asks dumbly, his mind screeching to halt and all of his worries tumbling away when Dad wraps his hands tightly around Kurt’s fingers and holds him steady. When Kurt looks back up, Dad’s eyes look wet, and Kurt can’t help the way he sways back into him. 

“I’m not... Kurt, I’m not a young, fit thing like you are, not anymore. You’re... god, baby, you’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve seen in my _entire_ _life_ and I’m...” A breath rushes out of Dad’s nose and his shoulders slump. He tries for a smile, but the twist of his lips makes Kurt’s chest ache for how hollow it is. “Well, I definitely look my years.” 

“B-but...” Kurt trails off, mind blanking on every single adjective he’s ever used to describe his dad in his own head. All of a sudden, Kurt can’t think of any of the words he’s thought late at night, hard and desperate with his own hand wrapped around himself, or even any of the words he thinks every single morning Dad stumbles into the kitchen in his pyjamas and stubble covering his cheeks. 

“Dad, you’re literally so fucking hot I can’t even put it into words,” Kurt tells him bluntly, figuring his message gets across by the way Dad’s mouth drops open in surprise. 

But then Dad says, “Whoa, baby,” with so much incredulity in his voice Kurt frowns at him. 

“It’s the only thing I can think of right now. There’s not a lot of blood feeding oxygen to my brain at this moment, in case you couldn’t feel that,” Kurt mutters, pouting and dropping his eyes when Dad chuckles at him.  _ Rude.  _ It’s not like Kurt’s making fun of him right now. 

Before he can pull away like he sort of wants to, Dad bends down and sucks his bottom lip right from his pout and into his own mouth, nibbling on it with his teeth and sending pinpricks of pleasure along Kurt’s entire body. His hands slide up Kurt’s arms, pulling at the sleeve of his sweater as he kisses him hard. Kurt lets himself get lost in it. Each kiss they share makes it so obvious why people do this all the time; if Kurt could, he would  _ definitely _ be making out with Dad literally every free second of his day. 

Eventually, Kurt pulls back breathlessly, looking up at... well, at the man he’s in love with, and gets lost in his eyes before he remembers he was trying to get him naked. “Can I, Daddy?” Kurt whispers, leaning in to tease at Dad’s bottom lip with his tongue as he tugs at the shirt still tangled around his fingers, “please let me see you?”

Dad nods, and their foreheads brush together. Kurt smiles and presses in for another kiss, finding that the  _ last _ thing he wants is to stop kissing Dad. He has to slip his hands from under Dad’s shirt to push off the housecoat, letting it fall to the ground and pool at their feet but immediately getting his hands back under Dad’s shirt and onto his skin. 

He goes back to rucking his shirt up, only pulling away from Dad’s mouth when his shirt is tangled up under his arms. Kurt focuses on Dad’s face at first, holding his breath and letting the anticipation grow warmer and warmer in the pit of his stomach, excitement bubbling up his chest as he wrestles Dad’s shirt over his arms. 

Dad chuckles as he tries to help, but his hands get tangled up in the sleeves and Kurt has to help him with each hand. By the time he’s finally gotten him out of his shirt, Kurt’s burning arousal has simmered into a subtle warmth sitting in the pit of his stomach, and his throbbing erection isn’t straining against his zipper, but is still achingly hard. 

“Hello,” Kurt whispers up at him, dropping his shirt to the side before placing his shaking fingers gently against Dad’s collarbones, feeling the warm skin under his fingers and finally, finally letting his eyes fall to take in his dad’s body. 

He’s seen him shirtless countless times before. Growing up, both of them used to walk around shirtless all the time, until Kurt started noticing other boys, noticing that he was different, in some ways, and noticing that  _ Dad _ was also different. That Dad was... bigger and hairier and just... so much more than any of the boys his age. Slowly, Kurt started wearing more and more elaborate outfits, covering up more and more skin as the taunts at school got worse and worse and layering himself in clothes made him feel safe. 

Then, Dad also started wearing shirts around the house, and Kurt hadn’t caught anything more than just a glimpse of Dad’s body since he was thirteen and this is...  _ wow, oh my Gaga.  _ Catching glimpses in the hallway definitely  _ did not _ prepare Kurt for the reality of what his dad was going to look like, which is... he’s just so  _ big. _ Kurt is so thin. He’s  _ always _ been thin, but he’s been watching his figure for the last few years and Dad... he just looks so  _ different _ from Kurt that he can’t look away. 

Where Kurt is all smooth, pale skin with a smattering of beauty marks he inherited from his mom, Dad is warm, freckled skin that’s spattered with dark hair. Kurt’s mouth falls open as he drags his fingers down from Dad’s collarbones to sweep over the path of dark, curling hair in the centre of his chest, losing himself for a moment in twisting his fingers around the strands and petting through it, getting caught up in the contrast of their bodies once again, considering his chest—and the rest of him—is completely smooth. 

“Gaga,” he whispers reverently, sweeping his fingers out across the width of Dad’s chest and dragging his thumbs down his sides, following the gentle curve of his Dad’s stomach down to the waist of his boxers. 

Sure, Dad isn’t ripped like he  _ knows _ some of the guys at his school are from his  _ very _ brief experience in locker rooms, but Kurt likes how soft he is, how he has a little bit of a belly that he’s able to dig his fingers into. He traces the line of hair running up the centre of his body with the backs of his knuckles, loving the feel of the short, furry hair lining his stomach. Without meaning to, his eyes snag back on his dad’s nipples, focusing on the hairs curling around the pinker skin with interest. 

Slowly, he moves his fingers up and begins to tease at his nipples, his tongue sweeping out over his bottom lip as he runs the pad of his thumb over the pebbled nub, feeling the corners of his still-open mouth tug up when Dad moans. A heady thrill runs through him, knowing that he’s making Dad feel good. Kurt’s never felt as good as he does right now, and he’s still in the clothes he wore to school, standing in his living room with his arousal pressed against the constraints of his jeans and his thumbs rubbing slow circles around his Dad’s areola. 

“C-Can I...” Kurt trails off, no idea how to ask for what he wants to do, when he not only doesn’t have the words but is as overwhelmed as he feels.  _ Are _ there words for wanting to suck on someone’s nipple? From Kurt’s few,  _ short _ experiences browsing pornography online, he remembers a lot of different labels and terms and acronyms. He doesn’t know how to ask, so instead of saying anything he looks up at Dad with wide eyes and makes a hungry noise in the back of his throat. 

“Fucking hell, Kurt, you can do anything you want,” Dad promises him with equally wide eyes and a look in them that makes Kurt’s body feel hot. With a deep breath and a racing heart, Kurt nods slowly before diving in and wrapping his lips around one of Dad’s nipples. “Oh holy fucking— _ ngh, Kurt!” _

Kurt’s mouth twitches up into a smile that he pays no mind, the entirety of his attention focused on the sensation of having his lips pressed to Dad’s skin. It’s like he can feel everything at once—the way the short hairs over Dad’s chest are tickling his chin and cupids bow, the textured feel of his areola, the hard nub of flesh that's his nipple. He’s never felt anything quite like this before. 

He starts to suck at the skin under his lips, doing his best to create pressure and suction all while keeping his tongue flat against the pebbled skin. Keeping his other hand busy, Kurt rolls Dad’s right nipple between his thumb and forefinger gently, something he’ll do to himself when he’s really turned on and has to be doing something with both of his hands. By the deep, guttural noises that Dad’s making, he’s enjoying it just as much as Kurt does. 

Moaning at the salty taste sitting sharply against his tongue, Kurt mouths his way along the width of Dad’s chest to get at his other nipple, dragging the blunt edge of his teeth over the skin and grinning when Dad moans and reaches out to grab his hips tightly, moaning so loudly that Kurt can feel it echo through his chest and against his lips. He grins, finally pulling off before mouthing his way up Dad’s chest to lick at his neck. 

“God  _ damn it _ , Kurt, you’re...” 

Kurt pulls back, cupping his hands around Dad’s ribs as he asks, “What’s wrong?” with worry pounding through his blood. 

Worry that slides away when Dad tosses his head back and laughs breathlessly, “You’ve never done anything with anyone before, right?” Dad asks while he pants harshly, though he doesn’t sound upset. When Kurt shakes his head silently, Dad leans down to press their foreheads together as he whispers, “Damn it, Kurt, you’re just... you’re amazing. Baby, I love you so much and you’re so wonderful, Kurt.” 

A smile pulls at his lips that he can’t keep down as he whispers, “I love you too, Daddy,” into the scant space between their bodies, running his hands up and down the man’s sides as they take a moment to just breathe together. Kurt is... honestly so overwhelmed that he doesn’t even feel overwhelmed anymore. This whole day has been filled with so many crazy lows, only to swing right back into unbelievable highs, and as Kurt continues to hold his dad close, he almost can’t believe how lucky he’s gotten. 

Never in his wildest dreams—and over the last few years, he’s had some pretty crazy ones—has he ever, for a single second, imagined that Dad could actually want him back. He never even  _ let _ himself imagine that, because he was so sure it would bring him nothing but pain and heartache to entertain the idea that it could be possible when he was so sure it wasn’t. 

But here Dad is, his hands grabbing tight to Kurt’s hips and their foreheads resting together, pressing so close he’s all that Kurt can smell and feel and  _ hear, _ each panting breath that tumbles from his lips and over Kurt’s making his heart race faster and his blood run warmer. “I love you,” he says again, meaning it more and more each time the words slip out of his mouth, whispering them again and then  _ again  _ as Dad kisses him. 

He slides his hands down Dad’s side until his fingers hit the band of his underwear. 

And then despite the way he’s all but shaking with  _ want, _ he freezes. Dad notices, because  _ of course _ he does, and he pulls back just enough that they can see one another. His face is a mask of concern and Kurt’s face is... he doesn’t even know what, but probably not super great with the way that Dad is looking at him. 

“Kurt, are you sure?” Dad asks seriously, his eyes boring into Kurt’s soul, and he can’t do anything but screw up his courage, nod his head, and lean up for a kiss before finally pushing his underwear down. 

Because they're kissing, he doesn’t get to see what happens when he finally manages to get the bands of Dad’s boxers over the strain of his erection. He  _ keeps _ kissing Dad, because as much as he wants to see a penis in  _ real life, _ his heart is racing violently against his chest and he feels almost worryingly lightheaded with arousal. His blood is racing, but it’s all racing downwards instead of pumping some much-needed oxygen to his brain, and by the time Kurt finally pulls back, he feels almost light-headed. 

When he finally pulls back, he’s slow about it. He tracks his eyes over Dad’s chest, finding the hair matted together where he’d gotten his mouth on him. Kurt’s always so meticulous about his own grooming routine, shaving off any body hair that he  _ does  _ grow, that he’s almost a little surprised that seeing Dad’s dark, damp chest hair clumped together is turning him on so much. 

Eyes tracking even lower, Kurt spends a few seconds breathing deeply as he stares at the little hairless patch of skin Dad has right at the top of his belly, smack in between the bottom of his pecs. He squeezes tightly at whatever skin is under his hands as he tries to calm himself down. It’s  _ just  _ a penis. And sure, it’s his dad’s penis, so it’s a penis Kurt’s wanted to see since he first realized he  _ wanted  _ to see penises, but it’s just a penis.

Who is Kurt kidding? This is totally not just a penis! Gaga, this is probably the most important penis that Kurt is going to see in his entire life. With that in mind, Kurt figures it’s definitely okay to be nervous. Dad’s hands cover his, and they slowly start to run up and down his forearms, which comforts him enough that he can finally bring himself to look down. 

Dad isn’t circumcised, either. 

It’s the first that Kurt notices, and something about that makes him feel even better. His nerves seem to rush away all at once, and Kurt lets out a deep breath as he takes in the way the head is flushed a darker pink than the rest of it, which is a shade or two darker than the skin of Dad’s belly. It’s easy to compare, since Dad’s so hard his erection is standing straight up and pressing against the soft curve of his tummy, the longer hair of his happy trail around his belly button matting together with precome that Dad’s leaking. 

Which... apparently runs in the family, Kurt realizes at the same time as he notices that his underwear feels pretty much soaked because  _ he’s _ also leaking so badly. Trailing his eyes even lower, Kurt notices the heavy vein that runs along the underside of his erection. It almost looks like it’s pulsing, Dad’s so hard. Lower still, and Kurt notices that Dad’s balls are already tucked up at the bottom of his erection, the hairy, wrinkled skin drawn tight. 

Kurt moves slowly as he takes his hand off of Dad’s waist, Dad’s own hands falling to hang by his side. He’s breathless, completely enraptured, and absolutely certain he’s never seen a penis so pretty in his entire life. 

He curls his fingers around it carefully, only tightening his grip when Dad’s breath hitches. Kurt manages to draw his eyes away from the pearly tip but it’s tough. When he finally looks up, Dad has his head thrown back and his eyes closed, and Kurt’s mouth draws up into a smile knowing he’s the reason Dad looks like that.

Kurt knows what he likes, but he also knows that everyone is different. The best way to learn is by doing, though, isn’t it? Kurt takes a deep breath in through his nose as he lets go of Dad’s girth before slowly trailing his fingertips up the length of him. He taps gently against the flushed head which draws a moan from Dad. Grinning wider, he slowly circles the very tip with his finger, rubbing the bead of precome into the reddened skin. 

He reaches out with his other hand and cups Dad’s balls, the hair tickling his palm as he gently squeezes the wrinkled sac, giving it a soft tug and watching as Dad’s dick moves down, wrapping a hand back around the base to hold it steady. Slowly, Kurt draws his hand up the length, watching with interest as the foreskin moves to cover the head until Kurt can’t even see the slit through the collection of skin. With the hand that had been cupping Dad’s balls, he slips a finger into the furrowed skin and rubs the silky texture of the glans, already wetter than only moments before.

“Is this okay?” Kurt asks shakily, so hard himself that he’s straining against the zipper of his jeans. Dad’s dick jerks in his hand, and Kurt lets go only for it to flex up against Dad’s belly, foreskin peeling back down the length of him to once again expose its tip. Kurt groans even as he giggles, drawing his thumb over the slit to collect another bead of precome before slowly dragging it down the underside of its length. 

“This feels  _ really _ fucking good, Kurt, but if you make me come now I’m not getting it back up tonight,” Dad tells him, his fingers flexing around Kurt’s wrist and something that Kurt doesn’t like the look of passing over his face. 

Kurt giggles, which only makes Dad’s frown deepen. He covers the head of Dad’s dick with his hand to keep his clothes from any possible staining and steps in close enough to press them bodily together. Dad groans, hips twitching back, but Kurt’s already reaching up to pull him into a kiss and lick into his mouth,  _ worlds _ more confident with how to move his lips and when to flick out his tongue than he was the first time their mouths melded together. 

“I have an idea,” Kurt whispers against his mouth. 

Dad groans, and his dick twitches in Kurt’s hand. “Please, feel free to share. I  _ love _ your ideas.”

Kurt giggles, kisses him again, and then finally steps back and lets go of his erection, wondering what to do with the mess on his hand. Kurt considers the way his hand is damp with Dad’s precome and shrugs his shoulders, reaching out to grab Dad’s hips which conveniently cleans off his hand. Dad raises an eyebrow at him when he pulls back, dropping his eyes to where Kurt’s tacky hand is petting down his side inconspicuously—or at least, he’d thought that he was being inconspicuous—and asks, “Really, baby?”

He shrugs his shoulders and says, “It’s not like I’m going to wipe your precome on my  _ clothes,  _ Dad.”

“You could just take your clothes off,” Dad mumbles under his breath with a playful pout on his lips. 

Kurt laughs, squeezing Dad’s hips and raising an eyebrow. “Did you want to hear my idea?”

“Oh,” Dad says, then a smile takes over his face as he nods his head eagerly. “Hell yeah I do!”

Kurt’s smile dims just a little as his hands spasm on Dad’s hips. He  _ hopes _ that Dad thinks it’s a good one, since it’s... a scenario that he’s definitely gotten himself off to a  _ number _ of times. The possibility of it being a reality is even better now that Kurt actually knows what all of Dad looks like, and he twitches in his pants as he plays it out in his head, but this time he’s able to clearly see Dad in his mind’s eye. 

“I... I w-want to sit on your lap. When... when we get off, I want to be sitting in your lap. It doesn’t matter  _ how  _ but... when we come, I want to be in your lap,” Kurt admits slowly, speaking in starts and stops as he focuses on his dad’s chin and the edge of his jaw to avoid looking at the expression on his face just in case he totally hates the idea. 

“What the hell’re you waiting for, kiddo, get moving,” Dad announces, getting his hands on Kurt’s shoulders and spinning him around before gently pushing Kurt forward. Kurt laughs as Dad leads him around the couch, all but marching him through their living room. 

Dad laughs with him, hand’s trailing down Kurt’s shoulders until he’s holding his hips. Kurt’s laughter hitches into something like a moan as Dad squeezes, but he keeps walking as best as he can. Dad matches his steps, and they walk around the couch in step with each other. 

“Your turn to get undressed, baby,” Dad says into his ear, his breath ghosting warmly over his skin but no other part of them touching, and then  _ slaps his ass.  _

Kurt squeaks, jumping a bit in place before whirling around. The sight that greets him is...  _ whoa, _ but it’s straight out of one of Kurt’s wet dreams. Dad is reclined back on the couch, his thighs spread apart and his arms spread out and he’s... he’s the most beautiful thing that Kurt’s ever seen, with the soft light of the big, industrial lamp that Kurt got for his room but didn’t like and now lives in the corner of the living room making him glow. 

He’s cast in shadows, and he looks like something out of a fantasy. Kurt’s personalized view of temptation laid out before him. Before Kurt can stop stupidly staring with his mouth dropped open, Dad leans forward which pushes his cock out. It looks even bigger now, when Dad is laid out like his lap is a throne. Kurt itches to take his seat, but he’s reminded that he’s still dressed when Dad’s hands slide up his thighs and palm over his erection in a way that has him seeing stars. 

Kurt gasps, wrapping his hands around Dad’s wrist tightly as he groans, “I’m too close.”

Dad nods and lays off with the pressure, though he traces one finger feather light down the length of Kurt’s erection in a way that has his heart racing and his dick twitching into the contact. He breathes heavily, digging his nails into Dad’s skin as he tries to calm himself down. He’s managed to go this long without coming in his pants—there is  _ no way _ he’s going to let it happen now. 

Thankfully, Dad seems to get how overwhelmed he is, and he slides his hands up under Kurt’s shirt. He doesn’t pull it up or try to get Kurt to take it off, which Kurt is a little thankful for because he's not totally sure he even  _ wants  _ to take his shirt off. Dad is so big, and he’s so strong and masculine and so... he’s just so beautiful, and he and Kurt look entire worlds different. He called Kurt gorgeous, but Kurt isn’t entirely sure that Dad’s still going to feel that way when he sees him naked so... one step at a time. 

Dad’s fingers start fiddling with the button of his pants, getting it undone while staring up into Kurt’s eyes. He can’t look away, and he starts stroking his fingers over Dad’s forearm, pushing up the hairs lining his arm before smoothing them back down. A smile lifts Kurt’s lips when Dad sways forward and presses a kiss to Kurt’s clothed belly, and he rests his other hand on the back of Dad’s neck before petting over his scalp. 

“These are ridiculous,” Dad complains suddenly, tugging uselessly at Kurt’s jeans and making him giggle when they don’t move down his hips in the slightest.

He sways down for another kiss, letting Dad draw it out and lick past his lips. His hands move to brush up and down the back of his thighs and it feels  _ so good, _ better than it should, Kurt’s sure. He brings his other hand up to brush over Dad’s smooth scalp and cup the back of his neck, lacing his fingers together as he kisses him and kisses him, before finally pulling back. 

“I can take them off,” Kurt tells him breathlessly, grinning widely when Dad pouts at him before he leans in to kiss it away. 

_ Then  _ he actually steps back, taking a deep breath and feeling it rush out of him. Kurt feels horrifically out of his depth, and he has no idea what he’s doing as he starts to finger the hem of his sweater, wondering if he should take it off. He’s obviously going to be taking his pants off, but... Dad leans back against the couch and throws his arms out over the cushion, spreading his legs and taking up so much room that Kurt whimpers to himself. 

Dad raises an eyebrow at him questioningly but doesn’t ask, thankfully, and Kurt ignores how warm his cheeks feel and tries to focus on the heat in Dad’s eyes and how that’s making him feel. Which... well, the way Dad’s watching him is making him feel  _ desirable, _ for the first time in his whole life, and that gives him all the strength he needs to pull his shirts up and over his head. 

“God, I am the luckiest man on earth,” Dad comments breathlessly. Kurt drops his clothes carelessly onto the carpet as he gets lost in the way Dad’s eyes feel  _ heavy  _ against his bare skin, making him shiver just from the weight of his gaze. 

It helps, though. Being able to see that Dad’s so clearly attracted to him, that he  _ wants  _ him... it helps. Kurt turns around slowly, swaying his hips to a beat in his head, running his own hands down his back before slipping them into the hem of his pants. He hears Dad’s breath hitch and a smile crosses his face before he slides his hands around to his front to make sure his zipper is completely undone. His arousal is straining against his jeans so hard that it’s once again bordering on being painful, and a breath rushes out of Kurt’s lungs when he finally gets his pants all the way undone. 

“I’d buy you looser pants but... damn, baby, do they ever fit well.” Kurt giggles—it’s a little embarrassing, but Dad’s voice is so dreamy he can’t stop himself. 

He doesn’t turn around as he starts pushing the hem of his jeans over the swell of his ass. The fact that he’s trying to be sexy is embarrassing enough without having to look Dad in the eye as he does it. Kurt wiggles his hips a little as he slips his jeans a bit lower, exposing his ass and feeling his cheeks heat up when his Dad  _ wolf whistles.  _

“Where the hell do you even  _ buy _ underwear like that?” Dad asks, and a second later his fingers are tracing up the back of Kurt’s bare thighs and making him shiver. Then, Kurt’s pants are being tugged down and warm breath is ghosting across the small of his bare back and making him shiver again. 

He steps out of his pants once they’re around his ankles, his heart racing as he finally turns around, urged on by Dad’s hands on his hips. When he finally manages to draw his eyes up from his own feet, it’s to find Dad leaning forward to get his hands on Kurt’s body. 

“I got them online,” Kurt whispers, covering Dad’s hands on his hips with his own and then stepping closer to the couch, shuffling forward across the carpet until his shins hit the edge of the couch and he’s standing between Dad’s spread legs. Dad nods and makes a strangled sort of noise as his Adam's apple bobs, so Kurt grins down at him and says, “I’ve gotten other things online, too.”

“Kurt, I swear to God I’m going to come if you don’t stop,” Dad tells him seriously, squeezing Kurt’s hips tightly and drawing a breathless laugh out of his throat that feels so, so good, almost as good as Dad’s hands running up and down his sides, rough calluses catching on his smooth skin and causing his entire body to tremble. 

“Touch-a, touch-a, touch-a touch me,” Kurt sings under his breath, grinning down at Dad as he climbs onto his lap. There’s suddenly  _ so much _ to focus on: his knees are pressing into the couch and he can feel the warmth from Dad’s skin as Kurt’s calves line up with Dad’s bare thighs, and his  _ own _ brush against Dad’s as he slowly lowers himself to so, so gently sit himself in Dad’s lap, completely breathless and  _ achingly hard _ as he slides his hands over Dad’s shoulders and looks down at the scant space between their bodies. 

“I wanna be dirty,” he whispers, watching as a bead of precome dribbles down Dad’s erection as his hands slide up Kurt’s thighs and break him out in goosebumps. Kurt’s own erection twitches, strains forward, as if all it wants is to erase the space between them and feel Dad’s warmth. 

“Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me,” Dad rumbles back at him, his hands squeezing Kurt’s hips iron tight, pressing into the bare skin of his pubic bone, making his cock jump. A laugh bubbles out his throat as his heart aches, feeling so full of love Kurt can’t hardly handle it. 

“I love you,” he says again, heavily, leaning in to brush a featherlight kiss to Dad’s lips. 

“I love you too, Kurt,” Dad echoes the sentiment with the same amount of sincerity, and something Kurt hadn’t even realized he’d been worried over eases away as an easy smile curls his lips up. 

He leans back a little, enough that he can look down at their bare bodies and focus on all the different places they’re pressed together. Kurt feels like he can barely breathe for how overwhelming it all is, and he’s so hard it actually hurts. He can feel his heart beating in his erection, thumping through the length of himself, flushed an even darker red than his dad and leaking even more. 

Honestly, Kurt’s not entirely sure how he didn’t come in his pants. It must have been the fear of needing to take them to the dry cleaners—the only good shop is two towns over and they charge, like, _so much_ that Kurt only ever dry cleans the necessities—but now that he’s naked and _sprawled_ _over Dad’s lap,_ there really isn’t anything holding him back, not anymore. 

Closing his eyes, Kurt lets his head fall back as he tries to ground himself. He doesn’t want to come just yet and seem every bit as inexperienced as he actually is—though even as he thinks that, his mind flashes back to earlier, when Dad had been holding him, and he’d said that it would have been okay if Kurt came. That makes him feel a bit better, because at least Dad won’t be making fun of him (Kurt’s heard what some of the girls say about the guys who don’t last long) and will, hopefully, be turned on? Do people get turned on when their partners come?  _ Are  _ they partners?

Before Kurt can start freaking out over whether or not they’re partners, Dad’s hands squeeze his hips before drawing up his sides. Calluses catch against his skin, making his entire body light up with pleasure as goosebumps erupt over every inch of his body, making him shiver hard. He gasps as his eyes shoot open, looking down at the contrast between his pale, smooth skin and Dad’s tan, hairy arms and his dry knuckles. A thumb, work-hardened and rough, drags harshly over his nipple, making him gasp as he drops his head back, riding out a wave of pleasure that surges through his whole body with a roll of his hips. 

_ Oh god, _ he’s so close. Whimpering, Kurt covers Dad’s hands with his own, sliding the tips of his fingers across the top of Dad’s hands to wrap around his wrists, giving himself something to hold onto when everything feels like too much and not enough and like  _ everything, _ all at once. Nothing Kurt’s ever done to pleasure himself has felt like this. Not even the  _ very _ small collection of toys that he has, and he knows that it’s because of the who rather than the how. 

_ Dad _ is the one who’s dragging a thumb over Kurt’s nipple, circling the skin surrounding the hard nub until he’s completely breathless and whining in the back of his throat, making a noise that sounds desperate to his own ears. Dad, who he’s been in love with for his entire life, who he’s wanted so badly for so many years that just the very thought that he finally  _ has  _ him, has a bead of precome dribbling out of his slit. Kurt’s so attuned to  _ everything _ that he can almost feel it slide down the length of himself, and he moans heavily with the way his balls are tight and his belly is burning warm and  _ everything _ feels so good. 

Rolling his hips again, Kurt feels his dick flex sharply as his balls get even tighter. He’s come without touching himself once before, the very first time he found his prostate, and he feels  _ at least _ as turned as he did that night—which was the first time he’d gotten a glimpse of his dad shirtless in  _ years _ and his arousal had been dialled up to freaking  _ eleven.  _ He feels even better than he’d felt that night, and just thinking that it’s his dad’s hands on him is making everything feel even better. 

The next time Kurt rolls his hips, more an involuntary movement that he’s way too turned on to stop, Dad’s hands start to drag down his sides. Thumbs dig into his skin and fingers splay out over his ribs, and Kurt starts to roll his hips to the rapid beat of his heart, fucking into the air as he grows harder and harder, panting desperately for breath but unable to fill his lungs before another surge of arousal pushes the air right out of them. 

_ God, _ but Dad’s hands on his skin feel so much better than they have any right to. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Dad whispers, and when Kurt manages to open his eyes, he looks so incredibly awed, a blush staining his cheeks and his mouth dropped open and his eyes  _ shining, _ that Kurt has to screw his eyes up because  _ that look _ pushes another bead of precome out of his slit. 

Another roll of his hips, and Dad’s hands are running even lower, mapping out familiar territory as they settle back on his hips but then  _ keep going.  _ Dad’s right—or is it his left?—thumb, the same thumb that’d been stroking his nipple and making him feel  _ alive, _ brushes down the crease of his thigh, over his pubic bone,  _ lower,  _ and brushes over the very beginning of his sack. The skin is  _ so _ sensitive with the way his entire body has tuned in to Dad’s hands on him and the way it all feels so, so incredible, and it’s, it’s too much, it’s more than Kurt can possibly handle, more than he has  _ ever _ handled and he can’t—

“Daddy—” he moans, completely wrecked, as his hips twitch forward and his erection strains away from his belly and  _ everything _ he’s feeling finally rushes together while pleasure thumps through his blood. He’s coming before he even knows he’s close enough to do so, his heartbeat in his balls and pumping come out of his slit, pump after pump and flex after flex and shaking breath after shaking breath, everything melting together under the heavy, sure pressure of Dad’s hands on his skin. 

Kurt moans  _ loudly,  _ his mouth dropped open as he digs his fingernails into Dad’s forearm in a desperate bid to keep from shaking out of his own skin as he shivers and comes and rolls his hips, flexing his erection to keep it going, keep himself coming, keep riding out wave after wave of mind-numbing and breath-stealing pleasure. Dad shifts his hands, his thumb brushing the  _ very  _ base of Kurt’s dick, and another wave of arousal beats him down and leaks from his dick and makes him feel so overwhelmed his lungs start to burn, unable to take a full breath. 

“Oh my Gaga,” he moans uselessly, head falling to the side and eyes scrunching up, feeling too much and not enough and  _ everything _ all at once. 

When he finally manages to pry his eyes open, the first thing he notices is a smudge of his come matting Dad’s eyebrow hairs. A giggle bursts from his chest and Dad smiles up at him. Kurt can feel the warm drops of come splattered on his belly and making his dick damp, but notices that the few splatters he has are... well, absolutely nothing with the way he’s soaked Dad with his orgasm. 

Oh, Gaga. Kurt thinks he shouldn’t be able to feel so turned on when he's still shivering through aftershocks and a bead of come is dripping heavily from the head of his dick, but Dad is... he’s  _ covered _ in Kurt’s release. The smudge on his forehead, another bead on his bicep, a thick trail dripping down his stomach and into his pubic hair. Kurt watches a thick clump fall onto the base of Dad’s own straining erection, and Kurt’s dick twitches so hard he whines in pain. 

“Holy fucking shit, that was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life, Kurt, and I’ve been around,” Dad tells him seriously. Kurt slowly manages to pull his eyes up to Burt’s face, and finds that he looks  _ wrecked. _ Before he can stop himself Kurt is giving him a kiss, licking over the seam of his lips before he pulls back, still breathing too heavily to start anything deeper. 

“Thank you,” Kurt giggles, and then throws his head back with a roaring laugh when Dad pouts and grumbles, “‘Lil annoyed I didn’t even get to touch ya properly.”

“There’s always next time,” Kurt whispers, and finds his heart-warming when Dad looks at him with that same awe-struck expression that makes his heart feel too big for his chest. 

Before he can say anything else, Dad rubs his thumb over his eyebrow, collecting the bead of come on his thumb and holding it up to his face. Then, in a move that has Kurt scrunching up his nose, sticks it in his mouth. “Oh, ew,” Kurt says before he can help himself, flushing when Dad looks up at him with a frown. 

“You’re telling me you’ve never tasted your own come?” Dad asks him, and Kurt shakes his head because:  _ ew!  _ Of course he hasn’t. What would possibly possess him to consume one of his own bodily fluids? Burt chuckles at him, which is a little rude, considering Kurt’s sitting in his lap and is  _ naked, _ so no one should be laughing right now, thank you very much, and says, “It’s really not that bad, kiddo.”

“Mhm,” Kurt hums as he narrows his eyes, tilting his head to the side as he considers the glistening fluid that must be cooling on Dad’s body. It’s... subjectively disgusting, actually, but Kurt wonders if maybe the whole point is that it  _ isn’t _ subjective? In all honesty,  _ sex _ is gross, but Kurt would be  _ more _ than willing to let his dad penetrate him literally any second he would like to.  _ That’s  _ subjectively gross, so maybe this is one of those things that  _ should _ be gross but isn’t and is just kind of sexy instead? 

Well, there’s only one way to find out, after all. Taking a deep breath, Kurt scoops a glob onto his finger, running the digit over Dad’s chest and watching the way it lays down the swirling hairs, feeling a smile pull at his lips when Dad moans. He lifts it up to Dad’s mouth with a raised eyebrow, and watches, curious, as Dad sucks the come right off his finger. Humming, Kurt traces the tip of his finger across Dad’s bottom lip, his belly going warm with arousal at the sight of his own release resting on Dad’s tongue. 

Yep, alright, so not as gross as he’d initially thought. 

Does that mean... before Kurt can talk himself out of it, he’s swooping down and licking over Dad’s bottom lip. He hums even as he moves back in for another kiss, licking up behind Dad’s teeth, sucking on his lip, groaning heavily when Dad starts kissing him back. Their tongues twine together in a way that has them both moaning loudly, and Kurt draws Dad’s tongue into his mouth before giving the warm, wet muscle a good suck, pondering the taste even as he nips at Dad’s bottom lip and keeps kissing him wetly. 

Well, it’s certainly salty. 

Moaning, a thrill runs through him when he realizes it’s  _ his  _ come that he’s drawing onto his tongue and feeding back to Dad, and that thought alone makes his softening cock twitch harshly as he bites at Dad’s upper lip and draws his nails down his chest, slipping here and there as he passes over spots of his release. He rests his hands on Dad’s belly and Dad grunts lowly, the noise travelling through Kurt’s body and right into his belly.

The skin under his fingertips shifts, ever so slightly, and Kurt draws back to look at Dad, a smile falling off his face when Dad’s hand is busy stripping his cock. 

“Uhm, what in Dior’s good name do you think you’re doing?” Kurt asks icily, a heavy frown on his face as he watches Dad’s hand curl over the head of his dick, hiding the flushed, shining skin from view and making him pout in disappointment. 

He watches as Dad’s eyes blow wide, his hand falling away as his entire body freezes up under him. Under Kurt’s watchful eyes he stops breathing, and Kurt bites into his bottom lip as he digs his nails into Dad’s stomach, backtracking and realizing just how terrible that surely sounded if Dad didn’t realize he was joking. 

“That’s mine,” Kurt said, dropping his eyes pointedly to Dad’s erection—thankfully he’s still hard, since Kurt would have felt horrible if he’d worried him so much he was turned off—before he reaches out and wraps his fingers around its girth with more confidence than it feels. “You’re not allowed to have all the fun here, mister.” 

All of the tension leaves Dad’s body, and Kurt rubs his thumb against the slit, swirling his thumb around the silky-smooth glans before tapping against the very centre of its opening, all in apology as he gives Dad the most contrite face he can manage with his hand on his penis. 

“B-baby,” Burt stutters, voice deep and scratchy, “you gotta stop scaring me like that, okay?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” he tells him seriously, leaning in and giving him as sweet as a kiss and he can possibly manage. Against his lips he promises, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, kiddo,” Dad tells him, getting a hand on the back of his neck and keeping him in place as he kisses him hard. Kurt almost loses himself in it, but he keeps a fraction of his concentration on where he’s moving his hand over the length of Dad’s erection, thumbing across the head on each upstroke. Dad lets the kiss die off until they’re just breathing air and says, “And yes, baby, my body is all yours.”

“All mine?” Kurt asks, raising an eyebrow and trying to look sexy and not totally sure if he succeeds but  _ feeling _ sexy anyway, just from the way Dad’s been looking at him all night. 

“Kurt, baby, you could do  _ anything  _ to me,” Dad tells him seriously, and the very first thing that Kurt imagines is a fantasy that involves his fingers slick with lube and Dad moaning under him. He whimpers under his breath, and Dad raises an eyebrow as he asks, “You already got some ideas, huh?”

Kurt grins, leaning in for another kiss as he starts to work his hand over Dad’s erection, feeling it all pulse in his grip. Dad’s  _ so hard, _ and Kurt can only imagine what this must be like for him. A smile pulls at his lips and makes their kiss messier. Dad hasn’t pushed him into doing  _ anything.  _ He hasn’t put a single ounce of pressure on Kurt to do anything, except,  _ maybe, _ slow down when he was too turned on. As Kurt sits astride the lap of the man he loves and kisses him easily, he can’t help but feel a little overwhelmingly lucky and so very loved. 

Having absolutely no idea what he’s doing, Kurt mouths his way across Dad’s face, peppering his cheek with sweet little kisses. Kurt has never in his entire life felt as good as he did when he came, and he wants Dad to feel the same. He forcefully doesn’t think about the years of experience he’s up against as he presses a gentle kiss to the lobe of Dad’s ear. 

“I love you,” he starts, because that seems like a safe bet. Closing his eyes, Kurt brings his other hand down to cup Dad’s balls, giving them a gentle squeeze as he keeps up an even pace with his other hand, twirling his wrist on each upstroke and squeezing the head. “You feel so good filling my hand, Daddy,” he hazards, and Dad groans loudly. Okay, that’s probably a good sign, right?

Taking a deep breath, Kurt lets a fantasy start to build behind his eyes as he keeps working Dad’s cock, slowly losing himself in his own thoughts. “I wonder what you would feel like in my mouth?” Kurt asks, thinking aloud. 

“What would this,” he runs his thumb down the length, rubbing over the heavy, rigid vein that runs from root to tip, “feel like in my mouth? Would it give the same way?” he presses into it, digging his thumb into the crease where his shaft bleeds into his sack. “Would it fill my mouth? Feel warm on my tongue? How would this,” Kurt digs the flat of thumb into Dad’s slit as he pulls on his balls, “taste if you were to come in my mouth?”

And then Dad  _ is _ coming, grunting harshly as he curls forward, warm come erupting from his slit, shooting against Kurt’s thumb until he moves the digit away. Kurt doesn’t move his face, breathing wetly against Dad’s ear as he starts to pump him in earnest, keeping one hand playing gently with Dad’s balls because he seems to love that as the other strips his cock in firm, consistent strokes, twisting his wrist and putting pressure on the head as Dad keeps grunting and groaning, his hands iron tight on Kurt’s thighs, so tight it stings, but turning Kurt on more and more. 

Flicking his tongue out, he captures Dad’s earlobe between his lips and nibbles on it gently as Dad’s release coats his hand, dripping down onto his wrist as he uses it to slick the way of his last few strokes, milking Dad’s cock as he keeps making low, punched out noises. Kurt trails his lips down his neck, biting into the juncture of his neck and shoulder before sucking at the skin, rolling his hips in small, aborted movements as he feels his half-chub fill with blood until he’s once again hard. 

“B-Baby, you gotta—” Kurt eases his pressure, but still gives Dad a few final strokes, drawing the tip of his finger over the wet glans just to hear Dad’s breathing stutter, smiling into his neck when a small whine slips out of him. He kisses up his neck and over his jaw before licking into his mouth in a hot, hungry kiss, spurred on by the growing arousal warming his belly. 

Dad’s hands run up and down his thighs warmly as Kurt all but melts into him, pressing his wet, slippery hands into Dad’s stomach to keep himself steady. They kiss easily for a while, long enough that by the time Kurt pulls back to rest their foreheads together, his heart is pounding away in his chest. He watches Dad’s face through half-lidded eyes, pride rising through his chest at the blissed out look on his face, and he giggles softly. 

“Was’sit?” Dad slurs, and Kurt giggles harder, moving forward when Dad’s arms wrap around his back in a loose hug. Moving forward drags his erection across the slick slide of Dad’s belly and he moans softly. “S’gain?”

Kurt shrugs, not sure what to say, feeling embarrassed and confident and sexy all at once. He watches Dad’s face, and he finally blinks his eyes open to look down. Instead of... anything that Kurt was expecting, a frown steals over his face, creasing the skin between his eyes as he makes a noise that sounds an awful lot like  _ hurt.  _

Gaze snapping down, he realizes that Dad’s softly running his fingers over Kurt’s thighs, where he’d held on tightly as he came. Apparently, he’d grabbed Kurt tightly enough to leave behind ten small, ovalesque little bruises that... make his dick twitch. 

“I am so sorry, baby,” Dad tells him seriously, eyes shining as he looks up at Kurt. 

Kurt shakes his head, and manoeuvres Dad’s fingers until they’re fit to the pale specks of purple skin, and moans from somewhere in the back of his throat.  _ Shit. _ “D-Definitely not something you need to apologize for.” 

“Are you sure?” Dad asks worriedly, and Kurt leans in to kiss him even as Dad says, “The last thing I would ever want to do is hurt you.”

Kurt nods his head and presses his fingers against Dad’s, and whines when a soft, thrumming pain erupts over his legs. It bleeds into pleasure almost immediately, and he lets up the pressure as he snags a kiss, wondering if it’s the pain or the fact that the bruises were left by Dad’s hands that’s turning him on. “I... like that they’re here. This all... I’ve wanted you for so long and it almost doesn’t feel real but... this shows that it is.”

Burt nods his head, and he looks back at the bruises with a softer look on his face than what had been there only seconds before. Kurt smiles at him, heart feeling like it’s fit to burst. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he whispers, giving him another quick kiss before straightening out and flexing his back with a groan, his dick tensing as he arches his back in a long line.

He’s about to raise his arms over his head to complete his stretch, but he scrunches his nose up when he realizes his fingers are sticking together as Dad’s come dries over his hand and he looks down at it in disgust. Now that it’s cooled and just feels sticky, he doesn’t find it nearly as appealing as he had moments ago. 

“We need to shower,” Kurt tells him firmly, looking down at the puddle of his own come that’s going to eventually dry over Dad’s... everything. “This is disgusting.”

Dad shrugs, a smile on his face that hasn’t wavered since he came, and tells him, “I don’t think it’s that gross, baby. I kinda like being all covered in you.”

Kurt rolls his eyes at him even though he feels the  _ exact _ same way, and does his best to keep his look of disgust. “You’re such a  _ man,”  _ Kurt complains, though there’s nothing close to actual annoyance in his voice. 

Burt reaches out and curls his warm, rough fingers around the middle of Kurt’s erection, the meat of his palm pressing against the ridge running down its head and Kurt’s breath hitches, his heart races, and a bead of precome pushes itself out of his tired dick. 

“I don’t have another one in me, kiddo, but I can think of a few ways to take care of this while we shower. How does that sound?” Dad asks with a smirk on his face that Kurt’s not sure he’s ever seen but is so sexy he kind of wants to die, a little. He takes a deep breath in a desperate bid to get himself under control and all hopes of sounding unaffected fly out the window when Dad gives him a tug that shoots pleasure racing all through his body.

“Daddy,” Kurt says with an arched eyebrow and as much attitude he can put in his voice while having someone touch his cock for the  _ very first time in his entire life, _ “I think that’s one of the best ideas you’ve  _ ever _ had.”

Burt’s laugh gets swallowed in their next kiss, and Kurt can’t keep down a smile as his heart soars. 

**Author's Note:**

> kudos are much appreciated, but life—including my writing—has been really rough lately, and a comment, as short and sweet or as sprawling and sporadic as you can manage, would be _greatly_ appreciated!


End file.
